Parts of the Clock
by Daddy's Little Rabbit
Summary: It's not crazy. It's not insane. It's not weird. It's not sick and twisted. It's art. It's something different and amazing. It's creative. It's something that makes money and makes people happy. The only one not happy about it is Clockwork, a young man who is offered a job to create a unique grandfather clock for the new haunted house for Halloween night.


**A/N: Just a little something for Halloween. Also… this one-shot's kinda long… so beware.**

* * *

 **Parts of the Clock**

It's not crazy. It's not insane. It's not weird. It's not sick and twisted. It's art. It's something different and amazing. It's creative. It's something that makes money and makes people happy.

A haunted house was put up. Built within the month of October for the well-known holiday, Halloween. Screech and Midnight were the owners, their green and purple eyes glistening with complete anticipation as it was set up by workers they found for $15 an hour. And when the workers were done, they were paid a bonus of a few hundred dollars and some candy. Though, even though everything was put up, something was missing. And this is where they went on their adventure to look for the famous "Clockwork", a young man that invented various things. He was well-known for creating a jet-pack and even a steampunk outfit for himself. So, why not something… different?

Clockwork never moved into an apartment, finding it a waste of money. Instead of wasting money on rent, he decided to spend his money on food, electricity, water, and things to create his inventions. Where did he live instead of an apartment? In the basement of the apartments on Merchant Street. The owner and manager were kind enough to accept $100 from him each two months, giving him more money to spend on blowtorches and other things. They even built a bathroom for him. Of course, any time something was broken, or they wanted something created, they went down to the basement and asked him for help. He was more than happy, of course, being grateful that he was allowed to stay down there for so cheap.

It was about ten days before Halloween. Screech was the one to make the trip down to Merchant Street, knocking excitedly on the door. Clockwork slowly answered it a few seconds later, oil staining his face as he was pulling his goggles down, golden eyes staring down at him. Screech was smiling widely, looking as though he were bouncing up and down.

"Mr. Clockwork, correct?" he spoke, cocking his head to the side a bit.

"Yes… Who might you be?" he questioned, slowly opening the door and allowing the shorter man to enter. "And what brings you here? What can I do for you?"

"My name is Screech! It's nice to meet you!" He grabbed the man's hand, shaking it furiously, his smile growing wider, looking as though his cheeks were about to split open. "I work alongside Midnight! We're the owners of the haunted house!"

"Oh, I've seen that! By that skate park, New Cross, right?" A happy nod, followed by soft giggling.

"Yes, right you are, Mr. Clockwork! But our haunted house is missing something… something… unique!" Screech slowly walked around the basement, admiring everything there was. Blowtorches, loose scrap metal, a small bed with tattered blankets, little lights hanging around the ceiling, and a torn dark blue hoodie laying on the table. "For someone who works so much and sells so many things, you sure seem to live… well, poorly."

"Well, I spend most of the money for new equipment and to ship things around the world and… well, I don't really spend too much money for furniture," he explained softly, shrugging slightly. "Anyways, what is it you need?"

"Oh, yes! We were looking for a grandfather clock!" he told him, looking back, that never ending smile still on his face. "But, we need something… spooky! Skin crawling, really! We're thinking of a grandfather clock that resembles… human parts."

"I… can see what I can do. I'm not exactly that great with working with wood," Screech's giggled turned into laughter, walking over and patting his arm.

"How do you feel about _real_ human body parts?" he asked, earning a horrified look. "Think about it! Every day, someone in San Paro dies. Every second, on every street. You go get some of those dead bodies, you got yourself free supplies for this clock!"

"I don't know… that's kinda sick..."

"We'll pay you! A thousand for all your hard work!"

"I… guess so… When do you need it by?"

"We need it before tomorrow morning! Midnight will come by to pick it up around seven! Can you have it done by then?"

"Yes. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Clockwork! I can't wait to see what you've come up with!" Screech practically skipped out of the basement, leaving Clockwork standing there. He slowly looked around his little "room", biting his lip. He tried picturing dead bodies cut open and blood everywhere. But a thousand dollars? He supposed it was worth it.

* * *

October 30th. Clockwork woke up in the early morning, doing his morning routines and getting ready, grabbing his keys, forcing himself up the stairs. Up to the surface of San Paro and making his way towards the parking lot, Damien caught his eyes. Now, Damien was the young boy that lived with his parents in 2B. He often made short trips down into the basement to watch Clockwork invent and fix things, especially when his parents were away. He thought of Damien making future trips down to watch him work, the young boy not knowing he would be walking where dead bodies were about to be dragged and cut open. It made him sick to think about it. Though, he would be making money. Maybe he could bleach the floor… and tables… and some equipments…

Gunshots could clearly be heard, especially as he neared the center of Havalynd. He could already see multiple dead bodies. When he saw a clearing as people moved this way and that, he slowly pulled over to the curb, getting out. He was quick to drag the criminals and enforcers into the back of his truck. He wanted to vomit. He felt so sick. And the ride back to the apartment was worse, hearing the bodies slide around in the trunk every time he stopped or made a turn. He just had to keep reminding himself of the money he was going to get. Kept reminding himself of all the things he could buy. A new bed, blanket, hoodie… maybe a bright lamp and some candles.

Dragging the bodies into the basement was a nightmare come true. They were so heavy and limp, just hanging loosely in his arms. He struggled back and forth, but finally, everyone was downstairs. Before he got to work, he had to clean up. Towards the end with the remaining 13 bodies, he just started dragging them, blood being left behind. He got a bucket, filled it with both warm water and soap, grabbed a scrubber and went back up the stairs, his legs screaming in protest.

On his hands and knees, scrubbing the cement of any bloodstains, Clockwork was grumbling softly to himself. What if Damien saw him? What if Damien's parents saw him? They weren't the nicest people alive, especially his father. Aggressive, he was, and wasn't afraid of hurting anyone's feelings. His mother, on the other hand, was more passive and calm, though she always glared at new people who walked past her, and still gave off smart and rude comments about others. And both were very protective of their son.

Clockwork spent maybe half an hour scrubbing away the blood. He thanked God that no one caught him, asking what the hell he was doing. He dumped the blood water into the bathroom sink, watching the red liquid circle down the drain. He slowly walked out of the bathroom, feet dragging behind him. He got to work on throwing a body onto the top of the table. He had a sketch of what the grandfather clock would look like. Made out of bone, covered in flesh. He could easily make a clock, but out of bones and flesh? Hell, he could get it done, but he wasn't going to be getting any sleep anytime soon.

It was so late. Around two in the morning, if he read the clock correctly. He already had half of the bodies cut open, were missing all their bones, and missing most of their skin. He was almost done, actually. Just had to finish the top. His hands were covered in blood, along with little splatters on his shirt. His was trembling, shaking as he slowly put the pieces together. What did he just do? Made a clock out of human bones and flesh? He was disgusted with himself. But, it was Halloween morning, now. After cleaning up and burning any trace of any human remains, Clockwork sat on his bed, looking down at the floor. 2:30. He had at least four and a half hours to sleep, unless Midnight decided to show up early. Falling back, Clockwork looked up at the cement ceiling, golden eyes empty. He felt completely numb.

* * *

"Mr. Clockwork? Are you here?" The knocking scared the poor man out of his slumber, bolting up and looking around. He didn't even realize he had fallen asleep. Looking at the time, he saw it was 7:12. The knocking continued as he slowly forced himself to the door, opening it up and seeing the green-eyed man standing there.

"You're Midnight, huh?" he questioned, earning a nod.

"Right you are, my friend! I was told you had a nice grandfather clock for me, yes?" he chuckled, looking into the basement. Clockwork nodded slowly, stepping to the side and allowing him in. Midnight walked over to the clock, looking it up and down, eyes wide in amazement.

"Is that okay?" Midnight laughed at the man behind him, nodding his head.

"Splendid! Absolutely splendid, my boy! Thank you so much!" He turned to him, smiling. "I have your money in my car. Would you mind helping me carry this clock?"

"Yeah… no problem..." Picking up the grandfather clock and getting it out of the basement made Clockwork feel a bit better, knowing he would no longer have to look at it. They sat it in the back of the truck, Midnight going to the passenger side and pulling out a check. He happily handed it to Clockwork, who gently took it.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Clockwork! You don't know how much this means to me!" he spoke, turning his heels and getting in the truck. "I hope to see you at the haunted house! Goodbye!"

"Yeah… bye..." He watched the man drive off, before turning his attention down to the check. Hell, he didn't even want it anymore, to be honest. He just wished none of that had ever happened.

* * *

The night came quick. Nearly everyone in San Paro was going to the haunted house, children and teens excited. Damien was walking ahead of his parents, who were watching the people run past them.

"Damien, stay close to us," his father spoke, giving a small glare as he noticed some enforcers pass them. The boy just looked back, smiling at them. He slowed down his pace, now only a couple feet away. His mother smiled slightly.

"He's just excited," she told him, looking up to see him nod softly.

"Doesn't mean he has to be too far away from us," he grumbled softly. Finally making it to the entrance and having to pay five dollars to enter, Damien was happy to see that Clockwork was there to greet them, and lead them through the house. Midnight and Screech were there as well, those smiles on their faces. They led the large group through the house, getting nearly all of them to jump. Damien's father was actually close to punching one of the workers in the face when they scared his wife, the woman jumping back and bumping into her lover. Clockwork actually smiled at this.

Nearing the end of the house, they finally saw the grandfather clock that had been built. All of them stared at it in amazement, though Clockwork felt his stomach twist.

"This clock was handmade by Mr. Clockwork!" Midnight spoke, stretching out his hand to point at the younger man. "And can you believe he made it within a week?"

"Really? That's amazing!" Clockwork looked at the woman, faking a smile to her. He wondered, just for a second, if one of the bodies he used to make this clock was someone related to her. Wondered if any of the people he used were related to any of the people who stood before him. They started saying how talented he was; how he should open up a shop and sell all sorts of things.

As everyone was led out, Damien and his parents lagged behind, walking with Clockwork. Damien was right by the man, smiling up at him and his parents.

"How have you all been?" Clockwork asked, smiling at the three.

"We've been fine," He chuckled softly, nodding his head.

"Still short as ever, Jaegen," He turned his attention to the female next to him. "What about you, Rabbit?"

"I'm fine, thanks. You?"

"I'm… pretty good, thank you..." Damien looked up at Clockwork, gently tugging on his shirt.

"Can I watch you make something like that next time? It's so cool!" The smile the man once wore was now gone as he looked down at the child.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he told him, making the boy frown. "It's uh… too dangerous. A lot of wood and splinters. Not something we need you around."

He looked at the family. A sniper. A marksman. And an innocent child. Two criminals living a normal and happy life with their child. Two criminals fighting to live another day, just to protect their son and watch him grow up. If they found out what he did, there was no doubt they would either keep Damien away from him, or just go ahead and kill him. Then again… they were both people who had a collection of knives, had mental problems, and Rabbit was one who would be crazy enough to even cut someone open, just to see what the inside of the human body looked like. And that's when he smiled, admiring the three. Jaegen had his arm wrapped protectively around Rabbit, who was leaning against him, her head resting softly on his chest. Damien stood in front of them, his smile returning.

"Can you at least make me something like that?" he asked, hope in his eyes. Clockwork stared at him. It's not crazy. It's not insane. It's not weird. It's not sick and twisted. It's art. It's something different and amazing. It's creative. It's something that makes money and makes people happy.

"I'll see what I can do."


End file.
